Home
by White Camel
Summary: Luffy, deluded and crazy after an extreme government cock-up, has awoken as a patient in a mysterious, sadistic asylum. There's a strange involvement centering around him and the theoretical existence of devil fruit trees, and he's scared. LuffyRobin AU
1. The Asylum

**Title: Home**

**Chapter 1: The Asylum**

**A/U: I really hope you like this story. It's been written in quite a rush, because at the moment I don't have time to review it all. I'm in desperate need of a beta reader, so if someone feels like helping out I'll love you forever. **

**This is written in the same style as my other One Piece story, _Spacetime_, which is a fanfiction about a time-travelling Luffy. Feel free to check it out. :-) **

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><p>Luffy cursed through his crooked teeth as his thick buckskin boots trudged through peeling layers of cracked, crispy dry mud from a shriveled, pasty field. From above, the milky sunlight poured streams of golden rivulets along growing mossy shadows and the dehydrated, withered sandy tendrils of grasping crops. Throughout an entire expanse, from corner to corner, there was only the brittle blue sky, and the devastation of a grotesque, devilish drought. A snake whispered in its coiled green grasp from beneath a bronzing, desiccated shrub, but only the whistling, parched, hissing dirty wind replied, barely cooling the sweat on Luffy's brow.<p>

An ordinarily sunny disposition would grace the young boy's every sandaled footstep, but now he could only purse his lips and struggle to choke the salty streams simmering in his blurred vision. He knew only one thing; he was going to die. Abandoned in this heat and loneliness, Luffy had been forced into the life of a hermit by the age of seventeen. Barely six months later, he regretted his decision with every dull ache of his pattering heart. His crops had died, his cattle finished. Every ounce of water from this lonely island was sucked dry, and every occupant fled to other lands. The entire landmass was placed into a permanent lockdown, and Luffy was now seen as 'contaminated'; a young boy infested with the wretched, vile disease.

From the distance, his mud hut had crumbled to the dust; a makeshift home after the old village was abandoned and detonated. Now, all the young boy could do was walk in his lonely, diseased death, and weep pitifully as he cradled every jagged, infected scar on his burning supple flesh. Everything hurt, everything screamed for the quiet peace of death, everything wanted to be free, but Luffy refused. The life of a simple country bumpkin was all he knew, and the pitiful wailing of his sobbing choked gasps was all he heard. Scrunching both narrowed, throbbing eyes shut he crouched to the floor, clutching his knees and rocking back and forth on both calloused, mutilated feet. All he could do now was hope, and pray, and wish with every single thread of his being to _live_. He had nothing to live for, yet his desire to survive burst from the seams of his crackling, sour skin, and the desire not be obliterated by the choking, gasping grains of dust that coursed through his fragile lungs.

"Please, God," he whimpered, his throat ragged, fleshy and raw. Each syllable came as a sore, wheezing cry for help. "_Anyone_. Just let me live."

And that was how he was found; a curious little ball of youth and desperation, muttering the crazed hisses for help through savaged, shriveled, and scabbed sore lips, tears drying at the unshaven stubble on his wrinkled, inflamed cheeks.

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><p>St. Matthew's Asylum was a cold, lonely place, full of bare white walls and the soft hum of icy, thrumming fans. Every hallway was almost indistinguishable from the other; only the plain black lettering on every plain white door differentiating each room from the other.<p>

The occupants themselves seemed as defeated and blank as the room, their crooked backs and beaky noses shuffling along in an almost brain-dead orderly fashion, clipboards clasped in their thin, claw-like long yellow fingernails and white coats swirling along their hunched bony frames. It was as though a sadistic, unpleasant persona was a uniform requirement, and the doctors would do their best to uphold this requirement to the depths of it's potential.

Nurse Nico, although somewhat unaccustomed to the unusual characters shuffling along the blank white floor, fit in rather nicely to the peculiar situation. She was an extremely professional, dedicated learner in her field of work, and persistently controlled every patient to a perfectionist standard. She was somewhat passionate about her patients, strictly revolving her entire life around the welfare and safety of every single individual under her care. Recently transferred from her old occupation at the Northern Blue Psychologists Center and Academy, home of the greatest psychologists in all of North Blue, she was at ease with the notion of physically dealing with rowdy patients, and was the fourth women in the academy ever to pass her exams within sixteen weeks with a 100% perfect score.

As a young rising star, being admitted into the second best asylum within all of the Grand Line was quite an easy feat. The majority of the patients were rather dangerous, coming from tough backgrounds and utilizing a variety of extreme devil fruit abilities. As such, it was an obligation to carry seastone somewhere discreet beside her at all times. The method in which seastone was hidden varied from person to person, but she chose to liquefy the mixture into a smooth paste (a practice very recently invented by a crazed marines scientist, which took hours of melting and extracting) and paint each molten rock onto her long, manicured fingernails. It was a uniform requirement that was somewhat handy; she could take out men twice her height with a simple sharp jab.

It was for her mild temperament and professional attitude that she was swiftly assigned even the worst cases as only a trainee doctor. She was especially talented at dealing with delirium, and found the frail minds of humans so incredibly fascinating with somewhat of a morbid curiosity.

And so, with gentle, even steps, she strode to the door of number E478. Giving a nonchalant nod at a shaken, grim-looking fellow nurse, she raised her hand to the barely noticeable identification den-den mushi, which was grumpily imbedded into a small indent in the wall beside the door. The den-den mushi beeped, and the door whispered as it slid open, revealing the cold, frightening cries of a man in clear distress.

Nico Robin held so much fascination towards this young man in particular. He was nestled in the corner, his straightjacket undisturbed and clean, and the bleeding damp walls murky and unclean from lack of proper hygiene by the staff. It was understandable; this unnamed man was so frightening in his stillness, as though he were simply a corpse. The only medium Nurse Nico could use to detect his state of living was the softly echoing, whimpering pleas for help, and the occasional frantic, pained scream.

He was always like this, just simply sitting and pleading. With his head bowed to his knees and his arms rested by his sides, she was uncertain as to whether he had ever moved within this room. Apparently, according to rumours, his transportation to the clinic had been a very eventful day. Half-crazed from hallucinations and dehydration, he was screaming of a disease, and shouting with a raw, gravelly throat to some deity.

Nico Robin sneered. She despised all mentions of gods and goddesses, preferring instead to rely on the evidence of Science and actual validated data. Of course, the existence of Devil Fruits remained somewhat of a mystery, but records proved that they were in actuality a very dangerous substance proven to mutate DNA samples and distort the entire human body. It was uncertain as to how they did so, but surely, with the swift evolution of Science and the rising Golden Age of pirates, plenty of unwilling subjects could be tested from within the law, which would surely rise to a conclusion on how to re-manufacture and experiment on devil fruits. It was a despicable thought, but without human test subjects knowledge wouldn't evolve.

Robin gracefully stepped inside with two long, spidery legs. The door slid shut behind her, alerting her that she was no longer in the safe, sanitized zone. There was no practical reason to feel fear at this particular moment, so she ignored the rising goose bumps on the back of her neck.

"Hello," Robin politely greeted. "How are you feeling?"

The crazed mumblings didn't cease, and continued in a long string of prayers and pleading cries. She dimly picked up a few sobbing words.

"…Live…so much…please…"

As far as she was aware, this man had been discovered when he was in his late teens or very early twenties, with an approximation of between 15-20 years. He'd occupied this room at the asylum for three years, making the possibility of him being 17-23 years old. Robin herself was twenty-five years and eight months.

He was discovered on an island that had previously been placed on a lockdown due to suspicions of a second plague outbreak. However, this theory was dismissed with evidence of mutated genes within the soil, fairly similar to that discovered within the DNA in humans. There was an excitable hypothesis that a devil fruit tree was beginning to grow within the abandoned area, which would reason the lack of moisture, despite there being plenty of surrounding water supplies, due to the roots of the tree draining a large quantity of H2O. Whilst scientists and government officials had been scanning the area, they'd discovered the feeble young man with somewhat startled revelations.

DNA tests and scans were carried out on the last survivor, and came out with incomprehensible results. It was truly amazing; his temperature and blood samples were unusually hot, to the point of being slightly surreal. There was no plausible way a human would survive at this temperature without overheating, dehydrating and dying. Somewhat baffled, the tests had been consistently redone time and time again, and yet Robin always reviewed the same results. It was truly an unusual case, especially since the young man had survived so long in such a barren area.

However, the only hint Robin could decipher was his unusual reaction to seastone. He would become somewhat drowsy, quiet and, in incredibly severe cases, his heart would fail. It was rather terrifying having to call paramedics and professional doctors into the dingy room, but Robin always maintained a professional outlook. It was the only way she could possibly stay sane in a place filled with so much madness; even the doctors all showed signs of psychological damage with their sadistic, almost evil personalities.

"Can you hear me?" Nurse Nico softly cooed. The boy showed no sign of response, save from a soft twitch in his bare, slender big toe.

However small it may appear, this was one of the few signs of movement ever shown. She held her clipboard poised parallel from her soft white shoes, and scribbled a quick note within the sliver of shushing, shuffling white sheaves of paper.

"I'm afraid that if you show no further signs of response, I'll have to record that you still remain in a vegetable state. Do you understand, E478?" Robin pronounced in a clear, emotionless tone.

There was no response.

"…Ple-…God …I don't wa-…no…"

Robin sighed, removing one steady hand from her clipboard to rub her sore, aching temples. "Do you understand the implications of this, E478?"

"…No, no, no, no, no, no…ple-…help…"

She cleared her throat, and spoke louder in order to be heard over the frantic raw muttering. "You will be then referred to in official files as unconscious, and would therefore be subjected to experiments that would otherwise be illegal on any other ordinary human. Please respond to me, E478," her voice shook a little, a trait barely noticeable to the casual observer. Swallowing sharply, Robin cursed her unprofessional manner and trained every single one of her forty-three facial muscles into a carefully precise neutral expression.

"I…live…nothi-…water…"

Nurse Nico gave a melancholy nod. "I understand," she spoke. "Goodbye, E478."

She turned to leave, her arm raised towards the recognition den-den mushi in absolute exasperation as she tucked her pristine clipboard beneath her armpit. It was extremely dangerous, having your back turned to a clinically insane patient. However, Robin had grown to trust this young man for no explainable reason whatsoever. Her heels clicked with each step, and the door slid open.

"No, wait!"

Startled, Robin whirled around, her white coat rippling from the air resistance of the movement. Eyes widened almost comically and mouth agape in a smile of shock and relief, she was suddenly overcome with gut-wrenching, draining, heart-racing fear. She never especially saw this man's face properly, but now she could decipher his expression she recognized the mysterious force of haki. It was of the subtle kind; an overbearing sensation of a heavy atmosphere softly straining her muscles against the pressure. She recognized the power, but had never experienced such natural, flawless haki within her entire lifetime.

The boy himself had the most extraordinary wide brown eyes. They flared with the warmth and coziness of molten dark chocolate, strong and soothing with an unusually bitter sweetness. There was something young and inspirational in those eyes, like the roaring crackles of a grinning great big fire, untamable and uncontrollable. All at once Robin was hit with the terrific, exciting, thrilling force of his blazing intensity, caught within the burning warmth of his passionate glare. He was handsome, that much was certain. Although pasty from the lack of sunlight, thin from the lack of food and dirty from the lack of hygiene, he dominated everything with his sheer crazy aura that radiated from every pore of his being. It was like his presence could dominate priests and kings and pirates and worlds all in one sitting. So many emotions freshly coursed through her tired old veins, the thrill of youth and giddy childish excitement pumping blood and adrenaline and _emotions _back into her beating, fluttering chest. She gasped, inhaled, and struggled to even speak from the overbearing tidal wave of fear and enjoyment and happiness and sleepiness and contentment and panic washing over her weary, aged soul, like bathing in the waters of the fountain of youth.

He gave shuddering, gasping breaths, somewhat mismatching the strength behind his every being in the small display of weakness. The dark circles under his eyes quivered in twitching squints, and she remembered that he'd spent three years with his head in his lap, and was just adjusting to the small filters of artificial light streaming from the ceiling. "Don't come near me, I'm diseased," he firmly rasped.

Robin raised one single finely plucked, arched black eyebrow. "No, that was a mistake. There was no disease," she cooed in the former tone she'd used earlier, her clipboard entirely forgotten. She had to mentally remind herself that only professionalism was correct, even if this new development was somewhat of a surprise.

"What?" he swallowed, cocking his head like a confused little dog. The desperation and eagerness in his chocolate brown eyes enveloped her in a sudden incasing of pity.

"You've been a patient of this asylum for three years. The warning symptoms of the plague were incorrect and presumptuous, and as such the government made a mistake in the containment of your island. You were the last survivor; apparently everyone save for 3 people, including you, escaped from the lockdown. Count yourself lucky you're not one of the two that died."

"Who died?" the boy asked, jutting his jaw in stubborn determination.

"There were no official files to identify the two deceased members," Robin replied, lacing her voice with a hint of pity.

The boy gazed down at his folded hands, and slowly, gradually pushed his legs away from his chest until they were entirely straight and flat against the floor. Robin recognized tears welling within the swirling chocolate, the transparent streams despairing over the cold, stark reality of life.

"I want to go home," he sobbed. "I want to fucking go home."

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><p><strong>AU: And finito! Apologies for any scientific errors, please let me know if I've made any mistakes. I really hope you enjoyed reading, and that it wasn't too boring for you. Thanks very much. :-) **


	2. Déjà vu

**Title: Home**

**Chapter 2: Déjà vu **

**A/N: I am so, so, so sorry for the late update! :o( **

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><p>After three months of intense studies and experiments, E478 was welcome to move to his future abode; the North Blue General Hospice. It was the most extravagant, luxurious location in the entirety of the Northern Blue universal area of sickbays, but E478 wasn't placed in this specific location just for the lavishing of the staff, but the extremely important and undoubtedly brilliantly accurate testing section, which prided itself in the absolute sheer brilliant scientific department.<p>

E478 was imported to the new location with an insurmountable number of numerous bodyguards, each one resembling something alike to a monstrous, seven-foot tall ape in a suit, with shoulder the width of a boat and muscles brimming from every single crook and cranny. The patient remained rather oblivious to the gravity of the situation, much to Professor Robin's amusement.

After a hefty load of terrifying paperwork, and hideous quantities of investigations, interviews and analytical studies, Robin was finally allowed a transfer to the North Blue General Hospice, a location commonly referred to by the most spoilt celebrities and important government officials. In all honesty, she though the North Blue General Hospice was a lot more comparable to a five star hotel, but considering the insurmountable benefits given to the sanatorium for the overwhelmingly excellent science department, this fact was not entirely surprising.

The room E478 was offered was almost disturbing in it's immaculate cleanliness. Every seen bed sheet, duvet, wall, furniture, light fixture, window frame etcetera beamed with a horrifically sterile white. Beside the comfortable, plain yet extremely comfortable crib, on a little ivory bedside table, a small, sprouting potted plant beamed within the faint rays of meager measures of golden UV rays, which sprawled through a set of drooping white blinds at the impeccably clean, sparkling window. Despite how amazingly lush the entire room would appear to practically every single living creature on the planet, E478 remained indifferent. It was quite a surprise, considering the presumption he'd been raised in a fairly dismal area. The boy was absolutely coated in layers of thick, condensed mysteries, and Robin intended to peal off every single one. However, this accomplishment was already proving difficult, since she couldn't even identify the boy with any age, name or social status confirmations. For all she knew, he could be a missing prince from a distant land, but from his nonchalant, rather unsanitary behavior, she very much doubted so.

Government officials and secret agents had been sent to retrieve identification for the boy, and very scant information had been retrieved. There were 1,487 conclusions as to who exactly he was, but the agents were positively ruthless in their mission. So far, they'd narrowed down the study to precisely 1,231 over the course of the aforementioned three months. If the same steady rate of the mission proceeded onwards, with 256 suspects wiped clean for every three months (and therefore roughly 85 suspects every month), the identification for the boy should be revealed in approximately a year and a quarter. It was rather difficult considering the factor that the boy couldn't even remember his own name. Because of this, and the disturbing resonance the nomenclature of 'E478' gave, Robin had accustomed herself to simply referring to him as 'Billy'. She'd once had a dog called Billy.

Billy, as he was now stated as for the time being, held an entirely unreasonable, and completely unfounded fascination towards menial human objects. He was often found to gape in awe at a sea turtle, or refuse to be parted with his cutlery after meals (something Robin found rather suspicious, since, due to his appalling table manners, he never even touched a knife _or _fork). She held a slight notion that he was planning something, and whatever it was going to be, due to the past four months undergoing extreme tests and experiments on the childish figure, she figured it would be absolutely awe-inspiring. Whatever the boy did, he always did it with a little elbow grease and a lot of style.

And so, during a recent escapade where Billy ludicrously attached all the chairs to the ceiling within the massively large expanse of the canteen hall, the staff at the North Blue General Hospice had grown so terrifically weary towards the crazy, bubbly psycho who insisted he keep his blunt, four-inch long silverware on his persona at all times (but no-one ever knew _where _–it was often rumored he either tucked them beneath his socks or under his trousers, and Robin contended the latter).

Billy himself was just barely the height of an average man, at precisely five foot and nine inches. Robin herself, at a gigantic six foot, just barely towered above the boy, yet in her long, slender leather heels positively towered above Billy. Billy had to permanently strain his neck in order to associate himself within her social acquaintances, a fact he appeared to find a silly humiliating, but slightly amusing. Robin, ever since the tender age of fourteen, always found her height a little bit of an issue, and so the light-hearted approach towards the negative situation was of the utmost welcome. However, after two months of their stay at the North Blue General Hospice, she noticed a few rather peculiar differences.

"Billy…have you grown shorter?"  
>"Billy…have you grown taller?"<p>

"Billy…where are your clothes?"  
>Also the last situation wasn't exactly out of the ordinary, and Robin had long since first seen the completely unashamed boy during the very first horribly thorough examination at the St. Matthew's Asylum, the first two could be generally accepted by society as rather extraordinary. It wasn't often a man could simply expand four inches overnight along his waistline, and, according to Robin, the unexpected chubbiness was rather adorable. It remained somewhat incredible the boy hadn't grown to an incomprehensible obesity considering the sheer quantity of food he managed to consume. Although, after some deliberation, Robin recognized that the vast majority of Billy's diet consisted of mainly meat, and so the boy's unexplainably buff figure, despite being illogically lazy, could only be reasonable through the rationalization that, due to his obsession with meat, protein gallantly blessed the boy with an incredible portion of muscle. Although not with the extreme brawn of a body-builder, since Billy would always remain slender, much to many persistent whispered complaints by the vast majority of the woman's staff.<p>

However, these anomalies, coupled with _how _exactly Billy managed to secure every single table and share within the thirty foot by forty foot squared area without any resources for glue, tape, screws etcetera. These were the only possible signs to indicate the dangerous intent of the boy's heart.

It was during one Summer morning, where a small number of tropical bed birds roamed around in wallowing self-pity, their wings clipped and feet shackled, chirping a supposedly merry tune to the occupants of one of the finest hospitals in the world. Billy awoke to Robin's persistent scribbling as she sat in a cozy rocking chair beside the bedside table. It was obvious she'd pulled yet another all-nighter, attempting to discover the reasons for his wild changes in physical state. Her metallic blue eyes drooped, dulled with a fervent desire to slumber.

Billy's designated crib remained unnerving as always; it was as though he'd been thrown into a cage, and the sharp white metal bars confined him to a nightmarish, feverish sense of something similar to déjà vu, except the memories remained obscure and foggy, tingling at the back of his mind as a constant goading annoyance. He wanted to know who he was, and he wanted to understand why he was here. Billy was practically certain that he indefinitely wasn't _supposed _to be Billy, the boy who patiently remained in a freakishly white hospital, subjected to freakish, frightening tests and imprisoned within freakish, scary foreign places. It was confusing, and frightening, and the sensation of fright, for some inexplicable reason, remained puzzling and weird.

Apparently, during one government-approved experiment, they'd committed surgery on Billy in order to examine his internal organs. He'd never approved this himself, and hadn't even been properly notified. A fine, long scar along his chest remained a constantly reminder of his lab-rat status. It was a disgusting blemish; not one of pride or strength, and, as he sometimes stood alone and cold before a long, cold rectangular mirror, he would fondle the slight silvery mutilation in horror, rapidly concealing the shameful expanse with his customary hospital gown. As a warrior, he was embarrassed and ashamed. As a warrior…

Luffy's eyes opened wide, and he began to silently fret, Robin long since surrendering to the welcoming embrace of sleep as she dozed in snuggled warmth beside him. "I'm a warrior," he wheezed, springing to his knees as he glared at the rough callouses marring his suddenly sweating palms, and the small jagged scars crisscrossing the tanned surface.

'That was from where you dropped your sword,' Luffy thought to himself. Luffy! 'My name is Luffy…'

He swiftly whipped around to face Robin, leaning across the crib (or prison bed, as he liked to call it) to franticly tap Robin on the arm. She groaned, a soft crease forming at her forehead, before Luffy began to madly grab at her shoulders, roughly shaking her to consciousness.

"W-what the hell do you want!" she roared, temper growing short as she uttered the first curse Luffy had ever heard her announce. He shriveled away, shrinking back into a slouched sitting position in his crib as he gazed sheepishly back at her.

"My…my name's Luffy," he beamed uncertainly, the flimsy smile wavering.

Now indefinitely wide-awake, Robin peered through bleary lashes in startled deliberation. "My, this is an interesting development," she mentioned in her lilting, motherly tone. "Am I still dreaming?"  
>The casual joke did nothing to lighten Luffy's mood, as it more often should have done. "I'm also a warrior…" he continued to speak, precisely as Robin began agitatedly scribbling on her clipboard. "And I got this scar when I dropped my sword," at this, Luffy thrust his left palm in Robin's face, and she blinked in bewilderment at the sudden object placed so close to her nose. "Ah, I see," she gasped, politely batting away the limb in order to continue her notes.<p>

"So, what does that tell you?" Luffy, formerly Billy, asked, slouching comfortably as he improperly began cleaning his ears with the smallest pinky finger on the aforementioned hand, which, when carelessly thrust into Robin's face, gave the uncommon aroma of his familiar cinnamon tang of sweat.

Professor Robin had already learned, since long ago, never to be insincere with her patient. He could see straight through her lies as though they were translucent shards of glass.

"Well…" she smiled respectfully. "You could be showing a possible symptom of delirium, which is a strong plausibility within your specific scenario, not to mention some of your feverish temperatures and above ordinary heart rates. Your body is pushing a limit, and the strangest incongruity is that your health isn't deteriorating, but instead improving, and so the possibility of delirium is somewhat reduced in likelihood. After such a long period of time spent within an asylum, your newly restored memories probably won't be comprehended as reliable according to my knowledge in psychology. However, it's absolutely certain that the government will now be capable of swiftly uncovering your identification."

"Oh…" Luffy scowled, barely processing such a hefty chunk of dialogue as he wiped his pinky finger on his hospital gown. "So what do _you _think?"

Professor Robin beamed. It was fairly common for Luffy to ask for her opinion, and these queries were very welcome. Through working for the government, she was often chastised for expressing her own judgments, and it was very rare she was capable of telling anyone exactly what she thought at exactly what moment.

"I think..." she blushed like a schoolgirl, feeling a little silly yet not uncomfortable within the situation. "I think the name Luffy suits you well," she said. "Although I'm slightly dubious on how someone as simple-minded as you became a warrior."

There was an awkward silence, where Robin's internal concerns on whether she'd offended the bizarrely happy-go-lucky boy raged in a whirling pool of worry.

Luffy barked with sharp peals of laughter, grinning like a madman at Professor Robin's snide, clever joke.

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><p><strong>AN: Again, apologies if I've totally botched all the laws of science.**

**Let me know what you think in a review! :o) **


	3. A Dismal Hope

**Title: Home**

**Chapter 3: A Dismal Hope**

**A/N: Two chapters in one day! :o) **

**Edit: And a big thanks to _Stalker of Shadows_ for reviewing. xx **

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><p>"Luffy, I'm afraid you'll have to undergo another operation," Robin spoke, pity creasing to a worrisome frown between her two finely plucked, arched ebony eyebrows.<p>

There were sitting within the canteen, an extraordinarily huge hallway within the North Blue General Hospice. The babbling murmur of conversation condensed throughout the large expanse of space, the people weary and sick. Any patients infected with even the slightest common cold weren't allowed within these crowded areas, since transmittable diseases could be disastrous under certain circumstances. As such, the majority of the measly, unwell and extremely feeble patients were people with severe burns, broken bones, and faulty organs etcetera. It wasn't an especially pleasant place to practically call your home, and therefore Robin could understand, to some degree, _why _exactly Luffy would find it so incredibly amusing to secure every single chair within the area to the ceiling. They were fortified with an unknown adhesive, the tests for the odd, gooey substance inconclusive. It had taken a lot of effort from the staff to remove the majority of the inadequate furnishings, but a few seats still dismally swung from above. Any occasional visiting inspectors would be told it was 'artistic', and any art forms should be generally welcomed within any supposedly oppressive location, since it welcomes a lighter heart within the customers.

Luffy immediately dropped his thick slice of ham, which his plate barely managed to catch. As such, the pinkish meat drooped, dangling halfway off the platter and teetering dangerously close to succumbing to gravity and tumbling to the polished wooden floor.

"Why?" he whined, horror creeping into his soft, lovely, beautifully childish features like a panther stalking its prey. "What's the point?"

Robin sighed, stirring her steel spoon around the glass bowl of fruit salad before her. When firmly deciding to break the news, she'd entirely lost her appetite, feeling sick to the stomach of the poor boy. A living dissection was undoubtedly a horrific sensation to experience, and, after witnessing the last study of Luffy's internal organs, despite being a trained professional, came close to vile retching and vomiting. From the bitter tang on her tongue, and the stirring of her dainty stomach, even the recollection was absolutely horrible, and she couldn't bear to be resigned to allowing this disgusting treatment of Luffy. It was a miracle the boy was still alive.

"I'm sorry, Luffy," Robin spoke, proud that she'd managed without a single crack in her voice. "It has to be done."

Luffy gaped, and an angry sob wrenched at his chest. His brown eyes glared at Robin in confusion, agony and betrayal, the warm muddy depths of soft chocolate glistening with the embarrassing shimmer of tears. He hurriedly wiped his eyes on his sleeves, too prideful to indicate his weakness.

"I don't want to," he murmured in a tiny, barely audible mutter. "Please, Robin."  
>She shook her head, firmly staring at a crushed, lumpy slice of orange nestled within her bowl. "I'm sorry, Luffy," she said, not daring to look at the weary, scared boy before her. "There's nothing I can do."<p>

Again, Luffy gulped down a choking sob, crinkling his face in disgust, misery and to bitterly avoid tears. "But…" he began, but stopped. '_But I'm scared, Robin,'_ was what he almost uttered.

They continued to attempt to eat in silence, although Robin could barely manage even the smallest cube of apple, and, judging from Luffy's slow, dreary nibbles, neither could he. After approximately fifteen minutes of the tense, weary and inexplicably miserable silence, Luffy finally spoke. He sounded foreign, like an unrecognizable alien, Robin's ears.

"When is the operation?" he asked, bowing his head as his dark, messy lion's mane shadowed up to his cheeks.

"Tomorrow," Robin swallowed. "For safety reasons, you won't be allowed any food for the entirety of the day. Although there's been absolutely no evidence towards suicidal tendencies, I will have to personally remain within your presence for the whole twenty-four hours. At eight o'clock in the evening you'll be escorted to the surgeon." The professional façade was beginning to scratch. She'd recognized, since long ago, that she was becoming far too familiar with a mere patient, but dismissed the notion as harmless. Now, she firmly regretted ever having to see his tears, and his liver, intestines, heart and so on.

Under ordinary circumstances, such treatment of a human was disallowed in all circumstances (apart from the most secret government circumstances, which Robin held no part in). However, due to his strange abilities, he was capable of healing and surviving at such extreme rates.

She would never forget him, lying blank and cold in his bed after the surgery. It was as if he truly had died, remaining still and lifeless and unbearably cold. She'd stroked his cheek, his eyes persistently gazing, unblinking, to the ceiling, and it remained frozen and cold. It was then obvious; even if he could recover at such rapid rates, or survive even through the worst hardships or wounds, it didn't mean he couldn't feel pain.

Afterwards, according to Luffy's bitter words, the anesthetic had had a terrible effect. He'd been subjected to remaining incapable of movement, yet his sense of sight and the agony wasn't reduced in the slightest. It was a genuinely serious mistake on the prior surgeon's part. After all, the surgeon had completely removed Luffy's liver, and it was absolutely certain Luffy had managed to glimpse at one of his internal organs being removed from his very own body. If anyone else had been placed within his situation, they would probably succumb to the madness that Luffy previously experienced.

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><p>After Robin had accompanied Luffy back to his room, he threw himself to the bedside rocking chair, which creaked and groaned, dangerously close to reeling off of it's support beneath and plummeting straight to the floor. The tears, previously retained, spilled freely, like icy rivulets spilling down his chin and along the tip of his nose.<p>

It was dark, approximately eight o'clock in the evening, precisely 24 hours before he'd be subjected towards the horrible, despicable experiments. His numb, fumbling fingers found the place in his chest; the location where he'd been sliced open, and all for some scientific value that meant absolutely nothing to him.

In his distress, memories began to subliminally creep into his consciousness, and he could only sharply inhale to express his utmost shock at the gory, wretched scenes he could see.

There was a battlefield, and bodies, lying dead, red…blood. It was in a desert, the sweltering heat frying even the sweat at his brow. It was before his people left. The jugular vein, located at the neck, led straight to the heart. It would be simple…slit his neck and go.

Luffy blinked, bewildered and stunned to silence. That was indefinitely not delirium, it couldn't be. The jugular vein, located at the neck, would kill an opponent. Why did he remember this? However, his recollection hadn't entirely remained foggy until this point. He knew, that was why he kept a fork…

It was a natural defensive decision, which he'd been oblivious and confused towards until this very moment. Many areas on a person's body could simply lead to their demise with an effortless sharp jab. The jugular vein was the most obvious, being fairly within reach and not restricted by a person's clothing.

The room, dim from the last powdery rays of dusk, was beginning to grow unbearably dark. Shadows had gathered and grown, expanding beneath sets of heavy furnishings and large obstacles. The floor resembling a rough, clumsy patchwork quilt, the blotches of darkness like a night void of stars. Luffy, weary, tired and beginning the formations of his newfound strategy, nervously jumped into his cot, which he'd always loathed with a passion. It was like a prison, which would sluggishly creep on his powerless sleeping form. However, the cot had been claimed as 'necessary', since, according to the nurses -whom sometimes tended to him in place of Robin-, he would thrash wildly in his sleep, and often roar and scream like a crazed animal, desperately clawing to escape. There were so many scratch marks in the withered white paint coating the cot, unexplainable in the sheer power and strength needed in order to create such extreme marks.

Snuggling within the duvet, he wriggled and writhed like a maggot, squirming uncomfortably in order to locate the utmost cozy position possible.

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><p>Luffy was prepared. At precisely thirty-two minutes past twelve o'clock, his belly grumbled like a miserable old man. He and Robin casually strolled within the hospital garden, both under the pretense of observing the beauty of the extravagant, stunning, exotic blooms. A stream, not far off, gargled and shushed into a weary birdsong, the view of the clean, pure water shrouded by elegant, slender willow trees.<p>

Big fat poppies, the size of a human skull, majestically stood, proud and upright, like crimson blood stains above the cheerful, chipper young daffodils. Colors sprawled like a lazy rainbow, swirling in arbitrary, hazardous patterns along the moist, soft dark soil. The cobblestone footpath, long and winding in twisting, whirling formations, was like a mysterious road leading to an unknown location. The journey and exploration through the gardens was exciting and surreptitious, since it was alleged that every single flower would miraculously alter appearance overnight. Tomorrow, the poppies would be blushing pink roses, and the daffodils hyacinths. It took a lot of scientific alterations to manufacture flowers of such an odd composition, and especially difficult to manage to cultivate every single flower, which would constantly need varying temperatures, UV rays and quantities of water.

The potted plant at his bedside table had finally begun to blossom, tiny white heads peeking from beneath, and huge great dark arms for leaves. It was ostensibly supposed to be a spathiphyllum cochlearispathum, a name often replaced with the considerably less mouthy title, a peace lily. Luffy, for some inexplicable reason had grown rather attached to the fond companion, as if it were a loyal pet or friend. After all, the taciturn professionalism of Nico Robin could be a little upsetting at times, since he often felt so lonely without even a single comrade to turn to. Sure, Robin had been overwhelmingly sympathetic and kind for the duration of her job, but it was precisely only that, a _job_.

But it was not only this, but strange stirrings in his chest whenever their hands would softly brush, or their eyes would ever connect. It would bring heat to his neck and fire to his heart. He adored her presence, and worshipped her motherly, tender compassion and extraordinary dark beauty. She was so enigmatic; he knew next to nothing about her, yet he was almost certain she could discern practically everything from him. Sometimes he forgot that she was simply a doctor, and was only ever doing her job.

It was strange; as she accompanied him throughout his leisurely stroll in an uncomfortable, intense silence, he should have felt so much anger blazing throughout his entire body. After all, she was the one who'd let to all this, ratting his newfound sanity off to the nearest person she could find. She'd allowed experiments, examinations and dissections on his body without a hint of consideration for his feelings, and she'd lured him in with the trickery that she'd actually _cared. _Of course she didn't, it was only ever her job.

And yet all Luffy could feel was pity. Pity and guilt, since soon enough he would exact his own revenge, and this bitter hatred gnawed and ravaged at him, until he felt only empty and hollow.

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><p><strong>AN: What's Luffy's plan? What's he going to do? Why is he planning on using a fork on someone's jugular vein? You'll just have to wait and see. ;o) **


	4. Death Threat

**Title: Home**

**Chapter 4: Death Threat**

**A/N: I'm really sorry everyone, but this chapter is probably going to be crap. I'm kind of short on time at the moment, so I can't beta it myself. None of the beta readers on FF seem to be replying to my messages, too. :S **

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><p>It was finally time. The sun had long since set, glozing with scarlet rays in jagged, slashed patterns through the draping blinds at the window, until eventually succumbing to a dark, murky night. Robin remained seated in the corner, the rocking chair softly swinging back and forth in a slow, steady pattern, like the harsh thumps of his heart.<p>

They'd rarely spoken since yesterday, and the unnerving silence between the two remained with venomous intent. Luffy wished himself to hate the woman, and dragged himself to despise her composed, icy façade. She'd abandoned his life, she'd led him with the false hope of _friendship_. The mere thought of her pathetic, callous coldness left a bitter tang at his tongue. That was all she was, that was all she could ever be; a brutal, masochistic bitch bearing only a heart of stone.

At precisely five minutes to eight, a rhythmic knock tapped on the heavy wooden door, and rung sharply, like the echo of a chiming bell. Robin swiftly stood, and Luffy seized his persistent pacing, halting mid-step.

Not a word was spoken, only a sharp nod from the heavily equipped man, with a series of guns at his belt and a crisp black and white suit garbing his stocky figure. The security agent had the darkest skin and pleasantly soft features, like sugary, warm black coffee. His oddly kind features, coupled with his tall, wide stature coexisted in a slightly unnerving ill-fitting amalgamation, but he was the kind of man you could only ever take an immediate stricken liking to, no matter how coldblooded you happened to be.

Robin coolly strode to the man, who flashed a quick, warm smile, which she serenely returned. Luffy, gritting his teeth like a raging angry wild beast, huffed in annoyance. The smaller figure stomped towards the two, and they immediately departed from the room (although Luffy hesitantly stalled, giving the despised location one last once-over).

The harsh clicks of Professor Robin's heels resounded along the freakishly white hallway, with Luffy's reluctant, tardy gait following behind, whilst the security agent, patiently marched after. The special operating room wasn't too far away, and so it only took three sharp turns along the monotonous, colorless corridors; right, left, and then a sudden, dreadful, horrendous left turn, where Robin stopped at the door, opening her long, slender palm to the identification den-den mushi embedded within the wall.

A dry, ragged pant fluttered like a fleeing butterfly at an unnerving rate with the simultaneous rapid rushing in his chest. Robin gave a soft, chiding tut.

"Calm down, Luffy," she murmured with surprising gentleness. "Your heart is accelerating at a ridiculously fast rate, if we want the operation to function at its utmost capability we'll need you in your average state."

An unfamiliar expression plastered itself at Luffy's face; one of the utmost disgust. He sneered, glaring with the accusing eyes of a child. He slicked past her, and Robin impulsively grabbed his arm. "Luffy, wait!" she cried, uncaring to their present company.

Luffy didn't try to pull away, simply turning to gaze at Robin, curiosity and hope casting a halo behind the flaring projector light behind the open doorway.

"I…I," she stuttered, staring like a rabbit caught in headlights. She sighed, bowing her head and slackening her grip. "Never mind."

Fervently keeping her long, svelte inky hair over her eyes, the young Professor could only blink rapidly, desperately wishing the blossoming tears to leave. A soft, large hand gently touched her shoulder, giving a light squeeze before departing all too soon. The security agent was far too kind, and she could only dolefully, hurriedly wipe her eyes with her sleeves.

"Thank you," she sniffled, giving a civil smile in his direction, before following Luffy in and to the waiting room.

The lights were far too bright, and she swiftly shaded her eyes, wincing at how all the whiteness seemed to reflect every single beam of artificial light and practically sear a hole within her eyeball. She could feel a migraine coming on, and, with the other hand, cupped her head, inwardly seething in a drowning puddle of self-pity and misery.

"Ah, good. Professor Robin has finally come to join us," a blonde nurse joked. Her name was something insignificant and stupid to Robin's recollection, something along the lines of 'Coco Candi' or some other trashy hooker title. She was positively extraordinarily irritating, with a fake white smile, pineapple ponytail and a horrifically obvious push-up bra. It was a wonder how she'd managed to wheedle her way into one of the most prestigious hospitals in the world.

'_Probably slept with the Manager or something,_' Robin internally deadpanned, shooting a subtle heated glare. "Yes, indeed I have," she then further replied, sure to add the faintest tinge of sarcasm in her dubious tone.

Nurse Coco Shandy or whatever gave a nervous, teetering giggle, clapping her arms like a retarded seal. Giving a discreet embarrassed cough at the gloomy, bored presence she was within, she immediately plastered her horrendously fake, disgusting lip-glossed smile back on.

"Anyway, I'm afraid you're going to have to remove your clothing before entering the operation room, Mr. Luffy," she smiled, as if being somehow comforting.

Luffy immediately flushed as bright as a red rose, casting a quick glance in Robin's direction. She caught his doe brown eyes, and immediately obliged his silent plea, averting her gaze to the extremely uninteresting eastern wall.

Luffy pursed his lips, scowling to the floor as his black, scruffy hair shaded his gaze. Hoisting his hospital gown slightly upwards to his thigh, and then further to the small of his back, he found the waistline of his boxers, and briefly fumbled at the small of his back, as though finding an itch. His fingers briefly caught the solid, sharp object, located precisely at the lumbar area, where a small, dainty curving handle stuck out from the elastic waistline. Casting yet another feverish, worrisome glance towards Robin, he made absolute certain she was glancing away as he abruptly flew to her side, wrapped his arms around her shoulders in a rough bear hug.

She gasped, slowly, hysterically clasping his waist in an alarmed grasp, her fingernails sharply dragging into his skin. These frenzied actions availed to absolutely no consequence, and she remembered her seastone nail polish had long since crumbled and pealed away. In a cruel twist of fate, it was her own heart rate accelerating as she faced death.

The ridiculously stupid nurse gushed like a ludicrous fan-girl. "Aw, that's so cute!" she cooed, clasping her hands together in another unintentional botched impression of an awkward seal. Luffy slowly, carefully shifted, arms still wrapped around Robin's shoulders as their clothes sheaved together in an involuntarily intimate action. His chest was now pressed to her back, and he gasped in sheer shock and terror. The three prongs placed harshly at her neck could only be what she assumed as a…fork.

"What…" the nurse frowned in confusion, tilting her head in a vastly similar movement to a naïve, little puppy. "A fork?"  
>"Well done," Luffy mockingly praised, his breath tickling at her ear as he lazily rested his chin on her shoulder. "And where is it placed?"<p>

Coco-what's-her-face scowled, and then gasped, cupping her hands over her mouth. Her eyes widened desperately, and Robin inwardly screamed at her to _do something! _

"You got it? Well done, that's an A-star for you," Luffy chuckled. "Yosh, yosh. Can you say it out loud?"

"T…t-t-the jugular vein…"

Robin wanted to shriek and yell at this stupid woman, but she knew one unwise movement could lead to an inevitable death. The prongs of the fork were unusually acute, as if they'd been purposely sharpened to an accurate, piercing makeshift weapon. '_Don't struggle,_' Robin mentally reprimanded herself, enforcing the chant into an ersatz calming lullaby. '_Don't struggle, don't struggle, don't struggle_…' She gulped, harshly in taking a breath as the fork was pushed deeper.

"Spot-on," Luffy sing-songed, the vibrations of his speech ricocheting along the nape of her neck. "Now, I want you to go into the operation room and tell them that there is an unfortunate delay with the patient."  
>Coco gulped, eyebrows comically raised atop her brow. She teetered nervously, unsteadily swaying as if unsure of what to do.<p>

"Well, go on," Luffy smirked. He, very, very slightly, pulled the fork away from Robin's neck, and she realized his silent indication.

"D-do as he says," Robin gasped breathily. Coco tearfully looked at her, like a child would adoringly gaze towards their mother. "Please," the Professor added.

The nurse sprinted away, her slipper-clad feet clumsily sliding along the smooth surface of the floor. Luffy callously, hurriedly dragged Robin along, hastily scampering away to the closed door. He backed against the wall, Robin pressed against him, cutlery still held towards the side of her throat.

"Right, okay," he worriedly said, as if experiencing mild hyperventilation. "I want you to put your palm on that den-den mushi."

Robin refused, remaining still against Luffy's torso. The boy huffed, adjusting his grip on her neck to roughly grab her forearm and shove her hand against the identification den-den mushi. As expected, the security guard whipped around, not expecting such an early departure.

"Hello? Who's there," he called, hand securely wrapped around the gun secured at his belt in a snug leather holster. A Beretta 92FS handgun, 9mm long and an absolute beauty. Good at shooting long-range targets, can hit a 50-yard gong over and over again with perfect precision. The sudden flashback left Luffy giddy with confidence, and he precipitously pushed himself and Robin into view, utilizing Robin as a human shield.

"Don't even _try_. I won't hesitate to stab this slut in the neck," Luffy spat, glaring darkly. The soft, kind, security guard, far too kind for this gruesome job, removed his sweaty, sausage fingers, earnestly gazing at Robin in confusion.

"Now," Luffy continued. "Er…give me your gun." The security agent was far too quick to oblige, making as if to walk to the duo. "No, put it on safety setting first. Yosh, yosh, like that. Now chuck it over."

It whizzed through the air like a bullet, inches from Robin's nose before Luffy's hand swiftly, with the skill of an expert amongst experts, seized the handgun by the handle in mid-air. He manually flicked it off safety mode with one hand, until languidly dropping the fork with a sharp metallic _clang! _

'_Only Luffy…'_ Robin couldn't help but think as the cutlery was deftly replaced by the instrument of war, '_only Luffy could get this far with a fork.' _

"So then, Robin," Luffy whispered to her ear, his soft lips pressing against the sensitive flesh. "I'm going to pretend to be unconscious, and you, _sweetie,_" he spat the word like it was a curse in his mouth. "Are going to pretend to give me a piggy-back. You're escorting me to a private, confidential location, which cannot be mentioned to anyone under any means, and I was so sleepy from worrying about that operation you couldn't help but let me doze off for a bit." The plan was slightly dodgy, but remarkably believe for a man who'd fooled everyone with his happy, childish disposition. "If this doesn't work," he seethed, pressing the gun closer to her collar, "I'll blow your fucking brains out. Understood?"

Robin nodded feverishly.

"Good. Right then," he said, now addressing the security guard. "I see you've taken a rather lovely liking to this fair lady, so I'll let you off for now. You're going to casually walk in the opposite direction. If anyone asks, the operation had to unexpectedly be cancelled. If you tell _anyone_ about this, your pretty little lady will be _dead._"

Robin gave a pathetic whimper, never once, in her entire lifetime, wishing to live so dreadfully_. 'I'm nothing but a coward. A stupid, selfish coward.' _

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><p><strong>AU: Sorry if you hated that. I'm terrible with action-y scenes, so it's kind of tricky to convey 'the mood'. Hopefully you'll still like it. :o( **

**And please, please review. I'll love you forever. 3 **


	5. Hiatus

This story is now on hiatus, sorry. :-(


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